So the actual goal for this blog was to tell an office story. One that catalogues the many weeks worth of labor I put in convincing new employees that everyone dresses up for Halloween. I start by giving them fictitious examples of previous year’s costumes such as vampires, ninjas and the CEO if he were drunk and homeless. I add how the grand prize winner gets a paid vacation to Northern Iowa and the runner up gets to be boss for a day.
Next when there is still some lingering doubt, I'll state the entire building wears elaborate well thought out costumes that they kept secret for months and they should feel lucky that I am warning them in advance. I’ll follow with that there is an unwritten rule that anyone caught without costume is given detrimental marks in the "Leadership" and "Compliance" categories from upper management on their annual review. Basically I make it sound like if you want to climb the corporate ladder at this office, you are going to have to wear some face paint or put on some spandex.
When the holiday finally arrives, a few rookie employees are the only ones dressed in costume and bags packed for Iowa. A laugh is shared by all and avoiding my business duties for a month pays off.
Alas, once again this year, my prank was a failure since everyone is dressed in the normal business attire and it's business as usual. Instead, I will now just provide this list of terrible Halloween costumes
I-The Visible Man
II-The Equator (a shirt with a horizontal line circling it)
III-Bob from Accounting
IV-Computer Graphic (stay home and visit people through an internet camera)
V-Non-Alcoholic Beer Drinker
VI-Twin Brother that wears a hat
VII-Green (wear only green)
VIII-Fake accent or talk in 3rd person
IX-Change direction of part in your hair
X-Half Man, Half Man
XI-You (just walk around with a big mirror)
XII-Brett Favre or his penis
Friday, October 29, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Book Report
Believe it or not, but it is possible to pen a book report strictly for personal pleasure. Without fulfilling a course requirement, I chose to write an evaluation the two classic Pete Lopez blogs, “If You Don’t Read This I Will Kidnap Your Family” (IYDRTIWKYF) and “The Essay That Let’s Other Essays Shine.”(TETLOES) Besides succumbing to the huge internet hype surrounding him (5 followers), the reason I picked Mr. Lopez was that I felt a strange cosmic connection.
It took about an instant for me to begin enjoying the unique narrative style that Mr. Lopez used to convey his distorted sense of wisdom. As an example, in TETLOES, he claimed to sporadically model himself in clothes comparable to that of a homeless man in order for the days he groomed neatly, to stand out more. I found this tactic highly irrational but he did raise a point about contrasting consistency. When bringing the topic up with colleagues, a debate often occurred around the phrase “you can have too much of a good thing.” Some agreed that arriving pretty everyday was an overdose of cake, while others argued it merely rationalized an excuse to skip showering and applying makeup a few mornings a week.
I was unable to identify an exact writing method that the Pete pledged to or locate another senseless author he drew inspiration from. If I was forced to categorize his literature, I would label it as, live writing which jots down the first thoughts that come from the top of the head and then praying for the best. Instead of story telling, I compare it to the unpredictability of a sporting event. When the ending rolls around, for the better or worse, I believe Pete Lopez was just as surprised as to what happens as anyone else who reads.
He also transmitted a very relaxed tone. Perhaps even too relaxed, because he rarely accomplished anything productive and displayed the attention span of a house fly. I found it hysterical that throughout IYDRTIWKYF he kept conjuring up criminal or outlandish ways to becoming successful but as we journeyed through his brain storming, it seemed as if he never left the couch. I have to admit that I prefer reading about his never-ending hope with get rich quick schemes as opposed to tales from some dedicated worker who slowly scratched and climbs his way up the mountain of marginal success.
In criticism, I wish I knew what school of thought Pete followed because it appears that in some of his sentence structure that he lacks an education altogether. I don’t think he’d have a clue as to what a semi colon was, even if it walked right up and literally smacked him in the face. Also, he does not seem fond of proofreading his work as he erroneously jumps from one tense to another. There were many parts where I assumed he was hopping in and out of some sort of time traveling machine.
My final disagreement is his constant over modification of verbs. I wouldn’t be surprised to be reading the newspaper one morning over coffee to discover that famed nonsense writer Pete Lopez was found dead in his small city apartment. The cause is still being investigated and an autopsy is pending, but with his room littered in LY’s, all the evidence is pointing to an overdose on adverbs.
Despite those minor faults, I really really loved both samples and I consider his oblivious butchering of the English language as all part of the Pete Lopez experience. I hope one day I am lucky enough to meet him and shake his hand. I already have planned to jokingly tell him that both of these pieces were so amazing, they actually diminish each other. I greatly look forward to tracking his aspiring career and expect anyone who reads this Book Report to match my opinion and declare Pete Lopez one of the living marvels in the literary universe.
-source unknown (but credible)
Bibliography
-I am sure Pete Lopez is just so happy that someone read his work that he doesn't care if he was referenced properly.
It took about an instant for me to begin enjoying the unique narrative style that Mr. Lopez used to convey his distorted sense of wisdom. As an example, in TETLOES, he claimed to sporadically model himself in clothes comparable to that of a homeless man in order for the days he groomed neatly, to stand out more. I found this tactic highly irrational but he did raise a point about contrasting consistency. When bringing the topic up with colleagues, a debate often occurred around the phrase “you can have too much of a good thing.” Some agreed that arriving pretty everyday was an overdose of cake, while others argued it merely rationalized an excuse to skip showering and applying makeup a few mornings a week.
I was unable to identify an exact writing method that the Pete pledged to or locate another senseless author he drew inspiration from. If I was forced to categorize his literature, I would label it as, live writing which jots down the first thoughts that come from the top of the head and then praying for the best. Instead of story telling, I compare it to the unpredictability of a sporting event. When the ending rolls around, for the better or worse, I believe Pete Lopez was just as surprised as to what happens as anyone else who reads.
He also transmitted a very relaxed tone. Perhaps even too relaxed, because he rarely accomplished anything productive and displayed the attention span of a house fly. I found it hysterical that throughout IYDRTIWKYF he kept conjuring up criminal or outlandish ways to becoming successful but as we journeyed through his brain storming, it seemed as if he never left the couch. I have to admit that I prefer reading about his never-ending hope with get rich quick schemes as opposed to tales from some dedicated worker who slowly scratched and climbs his way up the mountain of marginal success.
In criticism, I wish I knew what school of thought Pete followed because it appears that in some of his sentence structure that he lacks an education altogether. I don’t think he’d have a clue as to what a semi colon was, even if it walked right up and literally smacked him in the face. Also, he does not seem fond of proofreading his work as he erroneously jumps from one tense to another. There were many parts where I assumed he was hopping in and out of some sort of time traveling machine.
My final disagreement is his constant over modification of verbs. I wouldn’t be surprised to be reading the newspaper one morning over coffee to discover that famed nonsense writer Pete Lopez was found dead in his small city apartment. The cause is still being investigated and an autopsy is pending, but with his room littered in LY’s, all the evidence is pointing to an overdose on adverbs.
Despite those minor faults, I really really loved both samples and I consider his oblivious butchering of the English language as all part of the Pete Lopez experience. I hope one day I am lucky enough to meet him and shake his hand. I already have planned to jokingly tell him that both of these pieces were so amazing, they actually diminish each other. I greatly look forward to tracking his aspiring career and expect anyone who reads this Book Report to match my opinion and declare Pete Lopez one of the living marvels in the literary universe.
-source unknown (but credible)
Bibliography
-I am sure Pete Lopez is just so happy that someone read his work that he doesn't care if he was referenced properly.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Sidewalk to Nowhere
It would be a silly mistake to assume there was a predetermined blueprint as to where this opening sentence was leading. I arrogantly thought I could start typing without hesitation and magically fill this sheet of paper with a delightful tale. Upon completion, the well established enemy would be defeated, the damsel in distress would be lovingly in my arms and the planet rescued from certain doom. Alas, instead of setting the stage for an adventure of epic proportions, I have composed an beginning paragraph that pilots into a black hole.
As a comparison to this negligence, a few weeks back I was taking a jog around my island summer getaway retreat*. As I was running around the neighborhood, waving to the locals I noticed a new set of condominiums had sprouted. It appeared as I turned onto a busy highway that weaved through a nice mix of foliage. Despite the isolated location, the gated community appeared to cater towards an upscale clientele. The elite grooming of the shrubs made my hair look like it was cut by a butcher and although I couldn't confirm it was Batman because my blazing speed caused blurry vision, there was in the least an intimidating fellow dressed in black securing the gate. Finally, to tie everything together, a sidewalk was paved on the front perimeter of the property.
The curious part to me was that at the same point that the complex quit running parallel with the highway, subsequently so did the sidewalk. The abrupt end fizzled into an uncultivated meadow area where you'd expect to see an abandoned shopping cart or an elk. As I passed by on street level, I pondered the reasoning behind the recently assembled walkway. In my dream there was a backpacked traveler approaching the edge of the sidewalk scratching their head (or thickly grown beard) in disbelief. The question burning in their mind “Who would architect a passage with the intention of it dropping you off at nowhere?”
That’s how I feel right now, I foolishly followed my uncharted path assuming that it would escort me to the placid oasis but alas I marched right smack into the middle of dessert. That’s right, I arrived post main course and have no idea what the table is chatting about as they sip their after meal cordial and unloosen their belts for pie…….Wow the things I would do to cover up a typo. I see a similar outcome if I announced sports on the radio. I'd accidentally miscall a foul ball as a homerun during a baseball game and instead of retracting, just state the incorrect score for the remainder of the match. I see no reason to admit being wrong without visual proof. Besides, showing mistakes would ruin my credibility to the listening audience
Anyway, to summarize nothing, I typed myself into a sandy dead land and have no clue how to write my self to safety. The princess is still trapped in a dungeon waiting to marry the villainous serpent and the innocent people of the globe are destined for eternal enslavement all because of my procrastination. I blame myself for the failure but have learned a valuable lesson about what happens when I write the first thoughts that pop into my head. I will now start with a preplanned outline, have a "real story" woven into the plot and wrap up the loose ends in the conclusion. No longer will I construct trails that lead into emptiness and then quit because I am now craving pie. Please accept my apologies beautiful princess, Mother Earth and the trusting people who have read this. Also, let us all be forewarned together, never allow sidewalks to be our shepherd, you’ll never know where you will end up.
(pete lopez)
*Okay fine, there are some “misleadings” in that “summer island getaway retreat” statement. (A) The season was autumn, (B) The island was merely my birth land of Long Island, (C) I was not the proud owner of the dwelling, it was my mom’s house
As a comparison to this negligence, a few weeks back I was taking a jog around my island summer getaway retreat*. As I was running around the neighborhood, waving to the locals I noticed a new set of condominiums had sprouted. It appeared as I turned onto a busy highway that weaved through a nice mix of foliage. Despite the isolated location, the gated community appeared to cater towards an upscale clientele. The elite grooming of the shrubs made my hair look like it was cut by a butcher and although I couldn't confirm it was Batman because my blazing speed caused blurry vision, there was in the least an intimidating fellow dressed in black securing the gate. Finally, to tie everything together, a sidewalk was paved on the front perimeter of the property.
The curious part to me was that at the same point that the complex quit running parallel with the highway, subsequently so did the sidewalk. The abrupt end fizzled into an uncultivated meadow area where you'd expect to see an abandoned shopping cart or an elk. As I passed by on street level, I pondered the reasoning behind the recently assembled walkway. In my dream there was a backpacked traveler approaching the edge of the sidewalk scratching their head (or thickly grown beard) in disbelief. The question burning in their mind “Who would architect a passage with the intention of it dropping you off at nowhere?”
That’s how I feel right now, I foolishly followed my uncharted path assuming that it would escort me to the placid oasis but alas I marched right smack into the middle of dessert. That’s right, I arrived post main course and have no idea what the table is chatting about as they sip their after meal cordial and unloosen their belts for pie…….Wow the things I would do to cover up a typo. I see a similar outcome if I announced sports on the radio. I'd accidentally miscall a foul ball as a homerun during a baseball game and instead of retracting, just state the incorrect score for the remainder of the match. I see no reason to admit being wrong without visual proof. Besides, showing mistakes would ruin my credibility to the listening audience
Anyway, to summarize nothing, I typed myself into a sandy dead land and have no clue how to write my self to safety. The princess is still trapped in a dungeon waiting to marry the villainous serpent and the innocent people of the globe are destined for eternal enslavement all because of my procrastination. I blame myself for the failure but have learned a valuable lesson about what happens when I write the first thoughts that pop into my head. I will now start with a preplanned outline, have a "real story" woven into the plot and wrap up the loose ends in the conclusion. No longer will I construct trails that lead into emptiness and then quit because I am now craving pie. Please accept my apologies beautiful princess, Mother Earth and the trusting people who have read this. Also, let us all be forewarned together, never allow sidewalks to be our shepherd, you’ll never know where you will end up.
(pete lopez)
*Okay fine, there are some “misleadings” in that “summer island getaway retreat” statement. (A) The season was autumn, (B) The island was merely my birth land of Long Island, (C) I was not the proud owner of the dwelling, it was my mom’s house
Thursday, October 14, 2010
The Easy that Allows Other Essays to Shine (part II, Unpolished)
Previously on TetAOEtS, I was describing how arriving at work each day dressed as a clone of oneself can set a path to a faceless existence. As a branch of that premise, I believe in slightly deteriorating my look when meeting people for the first time. Without a prior experience, the new party can only judge me on my current status. I fear climaxing initially because in all future appointments I am doomed to look inferior. I prefer to leave space for improvement. My theory to being successful is to always be showing progress and it is much easier to accomplish that goal when beginning on a lower platform. Let me give you an example that I call "Seeing the Butterfly before the Caterpillar."
At first I was a huge proponent of meeting the woman of my dreams at a wedding, especially if it meant courting one of the hot bridesmaids. The atmosphere of matrimony is joyous and it sets for matchmaking heaven. Everyone is elegantly dressed, love is in the air and my eventual children wouldn't have to hear a story about their father meeting his wife in an astrology internet chat room. What kind of soul mate searching backdrop could prove to be better?
My romantic vision starts when I notice her out of the corner of my eye and become mesmerized by her radiant smile. My plan of seduction has a confident me strolling over to introduce myself. While making her acquaintance, I offer to buy her a complimentary drink during cocktail hour and that plants a seed to blossom for future flirtations.
Later, after letting a sufficient amount of time pass to play hard to get, I make a grand return and pull out the big guns. I take her hand to tango on the dance floor and we playfully bump into the bride slow dancing with her father. Upon exiting the dance floor we head on line for a slice of wedding cake. We have the fortune of obtaining the last fork and take turns lovingly feeding each other a bite.
With the evening moving along flawlessly, before I know it, we are back at the hotel bar tossing back late night shots of Jagermeister during closing call. As nightfall winds down and the dawn sunlight offers a captivating glow on her face, I gently rest a soft kiss on her delicate cheek. This leads to us passionately exchanging email addresses in the lobby and heading to our respective lodging quarters grasping onto the desperate desire to meet again before long.
On the subsequent morning I would brag to friends, hotel maids and anyone else with ears about being the smoothest guy on the planet. Of course as the gentleman I am, I would refrain from sharing explicit details of how my lips dampened the most sensitive skin. To keep the lustfulness of our affair confidential, I would only yield generic lines such as "Sally Q melted in my arms" and "She was the first one to practice and the last to leave. Sally Q just wanted me more."
In seizing a brief pause in my boasting, a friend listening interjects with “That’s great, I am really happy for you. Sally Q looked stunning last night.”
That particular line put my momentum in neutral and my mind became suspicious. Why did he mention that Sally Q looked stunning last night? Does she normally look un-stunning? On our opening engagement, did I already witness the peak of what she has to offer? Will the rest of our relationship be trapped in an unfulfilling valley? If I meet her for a cup of coffee or at the bowling alley and she has faded jeans, knotty hair and I am stone sober, will I be bitterly disappointed?
Suddenly I am not so sure of the mess I got myself involved into. Last night Sally Q was a ravishing enchanted angel mermaid princess but yet her presence following afternoon transformed into a hideous snake haired Medusa. All the intense analyzing causes me to break out into a sweat and a sick feeling engulfs my stomach.
No longer was I blueprinting romantic journeys by horse driven carriage under the stars and dining by candlelight on the ocean front. Drastic vanishing alternatives such as burning off my finger prints, adopting a stage name and speaking with an incoherent accent were now the main focus. That led to considering enlisting in the witness protection program and anonymously living the remainder of my life as a farmer in a rural community out in Northern Iowa. My entire world spun out of control and I am now in debate of abandoning my family and moving to Middle America to harvest crops. This unfortunate chain of events occurred simply because I met a girl who looked her best, the first time I laid my eyes on her.
Alright, let me stop this fabrication before I write myself jumping off the hotel rooftop or over dosing on mini shampoo bottles. I better come clean and admit that this dramatization slowly lost merit sentence after sentence. Actually this entire two part composition promotes advice that should be followed with a grain of salt or maybe not even at all. Besides, the moral was never about the importance of differentiating daily appearance or taking a modest approach to unveiling yourself for the first time. The point was to generate some rather dull output in order to lower expectations and make it easier for my other and future offerings to shine.
To reemphasize that, I will now conclude with uninteresting facts contained in parenthesis of how igneous rocks (hot magma ejected to the earth’s surface as lava that eventually cooled) and sedimentary ones (sand pressed together over long periods of time) were formed. Nobody wanted to read about that.
-pete lopez
PS I only know how to tango in my visions.
At first I was a huge proponent of meeting the woman of my dreams at a wedding, especially if it meant courting one of the hot bridesmaids. The atmosphere of matrimony is joyous and it sets for matchmaking heaven. Everyone is elegantly dressed, love is in the air and my eventual children wouldn't have to hear a story about their father meeting his wife in an astrology internet chat room. What kind of soul mate searching backdrop could prove to be better?
My romantic vision starts when I notice her out of the corner of my eye and become mesmerized by her radiant smile. My plan of seduction has a confident me strolling over to introduce myself. While making her acquaintance, I offer to buy her a complimentary drink during cocktail hour and that plants a seed to blossom for future flirtations.
Later, after letting a sufficient amount of time pass to play hard to get, I make a grand return and pull out the big guns. I take her hand to tango on the dance floor and we playfully bump into the bride slow dancing with her father. Upon exiting the dance floor we head on line for a slice of wedding cake. We have the fortune of obtaining the last fork and take turns lovingly feeding each other a bite.
With the evening moving along flawlessly, before I know it, we are back at the hotel bar tossing back late night shots of Jagermeister during closing call. As nightfall winds down and the dawn sunlight offers a captivating glow on her face, I gently rest a soft kiss on her delicate cheek. This leads to us passionately exchanging email addresses in the lobby and heading to our respective lodging quarters grasping onto the desperate desire to meet again before long.
On the subsequent morning I would brag to friends, hotel maids and anyone else with ears about being the smoothest guy on the planet. Of course as the gentleman I am, I would refrain from sharing explicit details of how my lips dampened the most sensitive skin. To keep the lustfulness of our affair confidential, I would only yield generic lines such as "Sally Q melted in my arms" and "She was the first one to practice and the last to leave. Sally Q just wanted me more."
In seizing a brief pause in my boasting, a friend listening interjects with “That’s great, I am really happy for you. Sally Q looked stunning last night.”
That particular line put my momentum in neutral and my mind became suspicious. Why did he mention that Sally Q looked stunning last night? Does she normally look un-stunning? On our opening engagement, did I already witness the peak of what she has to offer? Will the rest of our relationship be trapped in an unfulfilling valley? If I meet her for a cup of coffee or at the bowling alley and she has faded jeans, knotty hair and I am stone sober, will I be bitterly disappointed?
Suddenly I am not so sure of the mess I got myself involved into. Last night Sally Q was a ravishing enchanted angel mermaid princess but yet her presence following afternoon transformed into a hideous snake haired Medusa. All the intense analyzing causes me to break out into a sweat and a sick feeling engulfs my stomach.
No longer was I blueprinting romantic journeys by horse driven carriage under the stars and dining by candlelight on the ocean front. Drastic vanishing alternatives such as burning off my finger prints, adopting a stage name and speaking with an incoherent accent were now the main focus. That led to considering enlisting in the witness protection program and anonymously living the remainder of my life as a farmer in a rural community out in Northern Iowa. My entire world spun out of control and I am now in debate of abandoning my family and moving to Middle America to harvest crops. This unfortunate chain of events occurred simply because I met a girl who looked her best, the first time I laid my eyes on her.
Alright, let me stop this fabrication before I write myself jumping off the hotel rooftop or over dosing on mini shampoo bottles. I better come clean and admit that this dramatization slowly lost merit sentence after sentence. Actually this entire two part composition promotes advice that should be followed with a grain of salt or maybe not even at all. Besides, the moral was never about the importance of differentiating daily appearance or taking a modest approach to unveiling yourself for the first time. The point was to generate some rather dull output in order to lower expectations and make it easier for my other and future offerings to shine.
To reemphasize that, I will now conclude with uninteresting facts contained in parenthesis of how igneous rocks (hot magma ejected to the earth’s surface as lava that eventually cooled) and sedimentary ones (sand pressed together over long periods of time) were formed. Nobody wanted to read about that.
-pete lopez
PS I only know how to tango in my visions.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Top Dozen Reasons You Might be an Alcoholic
You know you are an alcoholic when....
1-You debate each liquid or powder in the juice isle at the grocery store if it would mix well with vodka
2-The level of beer left in your glass keeps getting higher as to when you start worrying about the following one
3-On a random Tuesday night, you think I don’t have time for this and switch from beer to chugging tequilla
4-When hearing warnings for severe weather conditions, your first thought is stocking up on emergency cases of beer
5-You bargain profusely for a better deal on a few bananas at the fruit stand but later that evening shrug off $11 cocktails
6-You keep your spare set of house keys at the local bar and "accidentally" lock yourself out a lot
7-Your idea of a drinking problem is when all the glasses are dirty
8-Autumn cleaning to you means finishing the leftover Summer Ales in your fridge
IX-You wonder what would happen if you added rum as an ingredient in pancake batter
X-You view swallowing a vitamin, cold pill or lego as a legitimate excuse to pop open a beer
XI-You think non-alcoholic beer is acceptable at work, church or pregnant
XII-Reading this list makes you crave a drink so bad, you are oblivious that I switched numbering to roman numerals
And now for Inside the Author's head...
So I thought of the dirty glasses as a drinking problem one day when I was out of cups and wanted to use it somehow. What else is better than list? Everything else were things I noticed from "other people" like um um Mr X or Madame Y. Well that of course except for when I was drinking a Sam Adam's Summer Ale while the neighbors were outside raking tree shit (leaves). Wait, I also better say I never ingested a lego. The thought of the idea that someone would use swallowing a child toy in order to rationalize drinking a beer made me laugh. Alright, I am off to the local bar to get my keys....I mean donating blood at the orphanage while serving soup to the homeless
-pete
1-You debate each liquid or powder in the juice isle at the grocery store if it would mix well with vodka
2-The level of beer left in your glass keeps getting higher as to when you start worrying about the following one
3-On a random Tuesday night, you think I don’t have time for this and switch from beer to chugging tequilla
4-When hearing warnings for severe weather conditions, your first thought is stocking up on emergency cases of beer
5-You bargain profusely for a better deal on a few bananas at the fruit stand but later that evening shrug off $11 cocktails
6-You keep your spare set of house keys at the local bar and "accidentally" lock yourself out a lot
7-Your idea of a drinking problem is when all the glasses are dirty
8-Autumn cleaning to you means finishing the leftover Summer Ales in your fridge
IX-You wonder what would happen if you added rum as an ingredient in pancake batter
X-You view swallowing a vitamin, cold pill or lego as a legitimate excuse to pop open a beer
XI-You think non-alcoholic beer is acceptable at work, church or pregnant
XII-Reading this list makes you crave a drink so bad, you are oblivious that I switched numbering to roman numerals
And now for Inside the Author's head...
So I thought of the dirty glasses as a drinking problem one day when I was out of cups and wanted to use it somehow. What else is better than list? Everything else were things I noticed from "other people" like um um Mr X or Madame Y. Well that of course except for when I was drinking a Sam Adam's Summer Ale while the neighbors were outside raking tree shit (leaves). Wait, I also better say I never ingested a lego. The thought of the idea that someone would use swallowing a child toy in order to rationalize drinking a beer made me laugh. Alright, I am off to the local bar to get my keys....I mean donating blood at the orphanage while serving soup to the homeless
-pete
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The Essay that Allows Other Essays to Shine (Part I, Spam)
Before penning this, I came to the conclusion that I needed a heroic essay to fall from grace. If all my written output was considered elite literature, then none of it could rise and stand above. If I'm only preparing grade A steaks, their supreme flavor starts losing value. My writing menu needs an article of spam, a side chapter of vegetables and a thesis of leftovers on it as well. Once in a while, I need to lower to the salad bar so that when I offer prime beef work, you can still notice how tender it is.
With that said, I must prohibit consistently being consistent from prohibiting my stuff to stick out. On purpose I am going to purposely make this written piece of writing suck like a sucker to ruin my reliable streak of reliability. That will stop and prevent a crowd from over crowding at the top of the top and free some free space for my other pieces that are not this one, to brightly sparkle a bit brighter.
Since the above proves that this essay is deliberately taking a dive, a plausible reader’s reaction would sound similar to this. “Upon these new set of circumstances, that nonsensical masterpiece I read yesterday was damn entertaining. I lost track of what a marvelous author Pete Lopez was because everything he composed was a diamond. After suffering through this rough, I hope his next submission to R2AZ regains that superior shine I mistakenly took for granted. I promise to do a better job of stopping to enjoy the roses, which are his words.”
To break it down further, I draw a comparison to the propaganda of ‘Mom says to always look your best’. If I took adequate time to fancy myself up every morning, the overall result would make me appear rather generic. There would be slight variations from day to day depending on pimples, the angle of the part in my hair or the number of inches of my heels but nothing that would distinguish me on a daily basis. After a month of monotony, people would stop accounting for my fantastically awesome looks.
Wow, after years of it uselessly hibernating, I can include something I learned as an economics major in college, the Law of Diminishing Returns. Loosely translated, if you wear the same type of shit everyday regardless of the brand quality or thread count, people will care less and less as time carries on. To combat regularity, if a couple of times a week I intentionally head to work in a less groomed manner, people would closely monitor my appearance. Like they say in the media, there is no bad publicity. Although a worn down version of me sheds a negative light, it's still in the office spotlight.
Well, I am not going to sugar coat that this technique will offer instant praise. Arriving at the office with an appearance that questions if I am homeless, is not immune to a spattering of, “Wow Pete you're looking lousy and smelling of day old alcohol today. What the hell were you doing on a Tuesday night?”
As a whole, I do swear that the compliments gathered will greatly exceed the amount of detrimental remarks. When the flattery arrives on days I tidy up, a minuscule part resulted from shock but the majority of the acclaim was from everyone recalling, just how attractive I am. Who doesn’t like compliments? Well it surely won't happen if I only dress like a financial robot. Not only do I have to remind people every so often that I am breathtaking, I must occasionally rip that sensation away......to be continued
-pete lopez
With that said, I must prohibit consistently being consistent from prohibiting my stuff to stick out. On purpose I am going to purposely make this written piece of writing suck like a sucker to ruin my reliable streak of reliability. That will stop and prevent a crowd from over crowding at the top of the top and free some free space for my other pieces that are not this one, to brightly sparkle a bit brighter.
Since the above proves that this essay is deliberately taking a dive, a plausible reader’s reaction would sound similar to this. “Upon these new set of circumstances, that nonsensical masterpiece I read yesterday was damn entertaining. I lost track of what a marvelous author Pete Lopez was because everything he composed was a diamond. After suffering through this rough, I hope his next submission to R2AZ regains that superior shine I mistakenly took for granted. I promise to do a better job of stopping to enjoy the roses, which are his words.”
To break it down further, I draw a comparison to the propaganda of ‘Mom says to always look your best’. If I took adequate time to fancy myself up every morning, the overall result would make me appear rather generic. There would be slight variations from day to day depending on pimples, the angle of the part in my hair or the number of inches of my heels but nothing that would distinguish me on a daily basis. After a month of monotony, people would stop accounting for my fantastically awesome looks.
Wow, after years of it uselessly hibernating, I can include something I learned as an economics major in college, the Law of Diminishing Returns. Loosely translated, if you wear the same type of shit everyday regardless of the brand quality or thread count, people will care less and less as time carries on. To combat regularity, if a couple of times a week I intentionally head to work in a less groomed manner, people would closely monitor my appearance. Like they say in the media, there is no bad publicity. Although a worn down version of me sheds a negative light, it's still in the office spotlight.
Well, I am not going to sugar coat that this technique will offer instant praise. Arriving at the office with an appearance that questions if I am homeless, is not immune to a spattering of, “Wow Pete you're looking lousy and smelling of day old alcohol today. What the hell were you doing on a Tuesday night?”
As a whole, I do swear that the compliments gathered will greatly exceed the amount of detrimental remarks. When the flattery arrives on days I tidy up, a minuscule part resulted from shock but the majority of the acclaim was from everyone recalling, just how attractive I am. Who doesn’t like compliments? Well it surely won't happen if I only dress like a financial robot. Not only do I have to remind people every so often that I am breathtaking, I must occasionally rip that sensation away......to be continued
-pete lopez
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